


My Own Worst Enemy

by kenporusty



Category: The Hobbit (2012) RPF
Genre: Cute, Entering through the window because of drunk, Fluff, I didn't know I wanted this, M/M, Until I texted deadonarrival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-22
Updated: 2013-03-22
Packaged: 2017-12-06 02:21:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/730491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kenporusty/pseuds/kenporusty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean wakes up with a hangover, and no knowledge of what the hell went on the night before.<br/>Graham sets him straight. Kind of.</p>
<p>Not quite a songfic, but this definitely came about because of Lit's "My Own Worst Enemy."</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Own Worst Enemy

**Author's Note:**

> I am so sorry for this ;.;
> 
> Also, I don't presume to know what these people are really like, this is just stupid fiction.

Dean woke up knowing three things: he had a hangover, he barely remembered the night before, and where the fuck was Graham.

And he was still wearing the clothes from the night before. 

He crunched over on his side and buried his head beneath the pillow, willing away the sunlight and the headache, actually sleeping for a short time before giving in, and stumbling out to the kitchen for aspirin and greasy food. Cooking was no good, so he opted for reheated Chinese. Settling onto the sofa, he noticed the window was open. 

_What the fuck?_

He saw his car parked half on the front lawn. 

_How drunk_ was _I?_

_And where the hell was Graham?_

Shaking his aching head, he tucked into the greasy chow mien. It was horrible, but the grease did something to calm his stomach. How drunk was he last night? Dean rarely got hangovers. Well, that one time after celebrating the end of the first block of filming, but that was another story entirely. The front door banged open, and Dean all but fell from the chair, stumbling to his feet, and glaring at the door. 

“Dean? You awake?” Rough and Scottish. Graham. Finally. Dean sank back into the chair and resumed trying to inhale the leftovers as fast as possible without choking. 

“You are awake,” Graham smiled and moved to sit in the chair next to Dean’s, and reached a hand out to the younger man’s knee. “How are you feeling?” 

“How drunk was I last night?” Dean asked.

The smile left Graham’s face, “about six sheets, mate.”

“Did I…say anything?” Dean scrunched his face up as memory tried to break through the waning hangover. 

“You said a lot of things. Some of them,” Graham paused to sigh, “rather hurtful.”

Dean’s stomach clenched. He wasn’t sure from the hangover, the grease, or the knowledge he said something that mean to Graham.

“I’m sorry,” his voice cracked so it came out as a squeak. “Can you forgive me?”

Graham laughed sharply, “son, you were so fucked up I’m sure you didn’t know what the hell you were saying. You were so drunk you decided to come in through the window instead of the front door. So let’s forget about it, okay?”

Dean nodded, putting down the half-eaten food, “sure, if you can forget about what I said when I was drunk. Whatever I said, I didn’t mean to call you that.”

“Sounds good,” Graham’s fingers were tracing aimless circles on Dean’s knee now. The knot loosened as his heart raced and his chest felt tight.

He looked at Graham’s face and his breath hitched slightly from the soft look he got. Graham’s hand trailed up Dean’s thigh, side, resting finally on his shoulder. Dean worried his lip, leaning in toward Graham, never leaving those eyes.

“The hell with it,” Graham muttered, grabbing Dean by the back of his neck and pulling him in to kiss him.

Graham’s lips were soft against Dean’s undoubtedly chapped lips. They moved together, slowly at first, but speeding to clash teeth and tongues, earning wanton sounds from both men. 

“You have got to stop being your own worst enemy, mate,” Graham said, leaning his forehead against Dean’s, “it’s unbecoming of you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Oh snap! A new ship, and I am her captain. All aboard the SS O'Tavish!


End file.
